Chapter Twenty-Five:
Instinctively Legolas wrapped his arm around Calathi's waist to support her. But Calathi felt numb; she couldn't sense the Prince beside her, could barely hear the conversation that continued around her pale form. *Destroyed,* was all that ran through her mind. *Ilinar was destroyed.*
"What do you mean, Matirine?" Thranduil asked grimly.
"Sir, I believe... well, I believe that goblins may have attacked the town," he said, looking down.
"What makes you think that?" The King questioned, surprisingly calm.
The messenger bit his lip, looking again at the Princess-to-be. "There were... bodies, My Lord. Bodies of elves, all over the ground... most were pierced with arrows, or otherwise violently slaughtered." His words were tight, forced, as though his throat was constricted in the grief caused by seeing the horrendous sight he was describing.
"Thank you for returning so quickly Matirine," Thranduil told the scout. He sat thoughtfully for a moment, reflecting on the situation. "There is very little to be done in this storm," he concluded. "With luck it will end by tomorrow. Please inform our soldiers that we shall depart for Ilinar when the snow stops falling. Also, find the Captain of the Guard and send him to me." Matirine nodded and quietly left the room.
The King and Legolas looked at Calathi; she appeared unstable, trembling lightly, though her eyes were burning with fierce emotion. "Melamin?" Legolas asked carefully. "Are you all right?"
The maiden struggled to come to her senses; she had barely acknowledged the fact that her fiancé was addressing her. She turned her head slowly and locked eyes with him. The pain reflected in his sapphire orbs dissipated some of the numbness surrounding her, though she tried to hold on to it. The anguish with which it was replaced was almost too much to bear.
She unhooked the Prince's arm from her hip and stepped away, walking to the door and into the hall with complete, cool composure. Thranduil and his son exchanged glances before Legolas followed.
He caught up quickly and wrapped her in his embrace, seeking to offer what comfort he could. "Legolas, please," she pleaded, endeavoring to remain as remote as she could for the time being. "Please, I... I just want to be alone."
"Calathi, I understand that you're hurt, maybe even afraid... but I think it would be best if you had company to help you through this," he advised gently, kissing the top of her head. Then he leaned down and kissed the tip of her ear softly. "It is all right to cry, Love," he whispered.
She shook her head. "I cannot right now," she answered stiffly. "I need time to think."
"Are you sure?"
She faced him and nodded. "Yes." Legolas sighed and released her from his hold. He knew that it would probably be better for her if he were there to soothe her and draw her attention from her grief, but he respected her need for privacy. Reluctantly, he watched her go.
* * * * *
Calathi strapped Methlai to her belt and shoved her knives hastily into her boots and the wrist guards on her arm. It was madness, she knew. But there was no way she could let go of what had happened like that.
What if there were survivors? Matirine couldn't possibly have checked everywhere, and if any of her people were hurt, in pain, hidden somewhere...well, she had to find them, and quickly. Besides, there was one spot in particular that she needed to investigate for herself... and at least one person - or body, she added with revulsion - that she needed to find.
Her mind was made up: storm or no, she had to discover the true fate of her parents and friends. The thought of everyone she had known being dead plagued her mind, and she shoved the torturing thoughts out of her head.
Quietly she pulled on a thick, gray cloak she had brought from home and lifted the hood, tying it firmly to counter the gusting wind. The thick blanket from her bed she rolled tightly and shoved into her pack. *Are the servants still in the kitchens so late?* she wondered. Whether the were or not, she had to try her luck - she was sure that she could get by without food for the journey; it was for what may await her there that she needed it.
Slowly opening her door and peering out, Calathi saw that the hall was devoid of other elves. She raced noiselessly through the corridor and cautiously entered the kitchens,, scrounging through various jars and cabinets for supplies.
Suddenly she heard approaching voices from the dining hall, only a little way from the door. She gave up her search, opening the previously secured shutters, but she was thrown back. Their wooden frames slammed into the wall with a loud crash, and she had to jump up quickly to stop their rattling before the entire palace was aware of the raucous.
She threw herself outside amidst the angrily swirling snow and howling wind. Roughly striving against the storm, she lowered herself from the sill and crept toward the stables, her feet barely making an impression in the accumulating drifts as she proceeded with the little she had managed to accumulate.
The guards that had rushed into the kitchens moments after the commotion pushed the mysteriously flapping shutters closed and eyed the open cabinets suspiciously.
* * * * *
Soon enough Calathi was galloping through the woods, a white mare beneath her. Flakes of ice stung her face as she sped onward, whipping by the violently swaying trees. "Noro lim, noro lim, Larape!" she urged her steed. The sweeping countryside kept her emotions at bay.
She allowed herself to float, suspended, separated from the world - almost the way she had when she went into shock what felt like so long a time ago. Only this time, the Prince, her love, was not there to save her from the swirling blackness with a sweet kiss.
Why hadn't she told him that she was leaving? He might have made the journey more tolerable with his mere presence. *He would not have let me come,* she told herself to keep the guilt from rising within her.
She continued on throughout the night, the cold spreading throughout her limbs. As dawn broke, her horse slowed her pace; saliva foamed at her mouth, and her sides were lathered with sweat. Though Calathi's only wishes were to reach Ilinar as quickly as possible, she understood that the creature carrying her needed a rest.
Pulling her blanket from the pack she had flung to the ground, she used its edges to rub the horse down and then draped it over her body to keep her warm. "Diola lle thank you," she whispered, patting the mare on her muzzle.
Larape neighed weakly, nuzzling her hand. She retrieved an apple from her sack and fed it to the horse, giving her another friendly pat before taking shelter beside a tall fir tree. As she pulled her cloak more tightly around her, Calathi felt the cold creeping further within her stiff body. At this point, however, she just didn't care. Her eyes fogged, and then her mind wandered onto the path of dreams.
* * * * *
Legolas awoke with a start. The wind still whistled beyond his closed windows, though his senses told him morning had arrived. He leapt out of bed and roughly pulled on a tunic. Striding quickly out of his bedroom and down the corridor, he stood outside his fiance's quarters and knocked gently.
"Calathi?" he called, knocking more loudly. Still, no answer rang from within, and the Prince quickly grew apprehensive. "Melamin, open the door." He stopped pounding and listened, only to be answered with silence.
Legolas pushed it open and stepped into the room, searching for the future Princess. The bed was empty, the coverlet gone. The Prince looked around briefly before his gaze settled on the wall - at the very spot where Methlai had been hanging since the battle with the goblins.
It was gone.
His heart skipped a beat. "Oh no." Then he dashed off toward his father's chamber.
* * * * *
A wet nose pushed its way into Calathi's dream. She came back to consciousness and focused her eyes, finding Larape in front of her. Smiling weakly, she stood, her strained muscles burning as she brushed the deep snow away from her. She pulled the damp yet warm blanket from her horse and stowed it in her sack before climbing onto her and resuming her journey.
Clouds of snow still fell thickly around her, though the wind had slowed. Her elven intuition kept her on the correct path through the silent forest as she grew nigh to Ilinar. Her horse plodded through the drifts at a steady pace, ever onward.
She traveled the rest of the day in the same fashion, pausing only to offer nourishment to Larape. By midday the snow had become even deeper, so much so that the horse could hardly pull its entrenched hooves from the drifts.
Calathi gave up the struggle in frustration as she drew on the elven magic within her and passed it to Larape. As the mare strained for another step it found that it was able to walk upon the snow as its mistress did.
The speed of their travel increased once more, and the maiden found her strength being quickly depleted. Her energy was being drained away to sustain the enchantment upon the steed. Had she released the connection, horse and rider would have immediately plunged through the crust and they would be halted yet again. So, though exhaustion was overcoming the elven warrior, she willed herself to continue until the last of her strength had been spent.
Afternoon descended upon the forest, casting long, eerie shadows over the glistening snow. Calathi had been in a stupor for several hours, her mind unaccustomed to being incapable of traveling the dream paths when need called for it. Her spell, however, required her to remain conscious throughout its casting.
Without realizing it, Calathi fell into the thigh-deep snow and her horse sank to its forelegs. Neighing loudly, it caught her attention and she groggily stood, bringing the blanket from her pack and rubbing the horse down as before. Quickly she scooped away the snow around Larape so that it wouldn't be frozen in place by nightfall. She dug a small hollow beside it for herself as well before curling into a tight ball and falling fast asleep.
* * * * *
To the extreme gratuity of the still-tired Calathi, she awoke to clear night skies and little wind. Larape stood patiently as she bundled the coverlet and stashed it, then mounted her and granted her magic once more. It was the maiden's hope that they reach Ilinar by daybreak, so long as the calm weather remained.
The snow now was a bit higher than her waist, and the trunks of the bare trees were hidden from view. The usual woodland animals were nowhere to be seen.
Still, the realization of the news Matirine had borne to the palace had yet to reach her, and as the sky cleared and the sun rose and her destination become visible, she was not prepared for what she found.
***Hehehehe... I wonder what will happen? ; ) Well, anyway, I was kind of making it up when Calathi lent her power to Larape so that her horse could walk on snow as well... I have no idea if that's even possible, or if elven horses can walk on the snow for themselves, but whatever. Sorry to any of those LOTR know-it-alls that throw hissy-fits if anything is out of wack... and I know that this is an LOTR story (well, sort of), but I'M the one writing it, and I'm doing what I want to do with it. And yes, I know, elves don't cry... but I find it easier to write when I can show emotions that way... Haha, sorry, I really do appreciate all of my reviewers. Keep them coming guys!!
Instinctively Legolas wrapped his arm around Calathi's waist to support her. But Calathi felt numb; she couldn't sense the Prince beside her, could barely hear the conversation that continued around her pale form. *Destroyed,* was all that ran through her mind. *Ilinar was destroyed.*
"What do you mean, Matirine?" Thranduil asked grimly.
"Sir, I believe... well, I believe that goblins may have attacked the town," he said, looking down.
"What makes you think that?" The King questioned, surprisingly calm.
The messenger bit his lip, looking again at the Princess-to-be. "There were... bodies, My Lord. Bodies of elves, all over the ground... most were pierced with arrows, or otherwise violently slaughtered." His words were tight, forced, as though his throat was constricted in the grief caused by seeing the horrendous sight he was describing.
"Thank you for returning so quickly Matirine," Thranduil told the scout. He sat thoughtfully for a moment, reflecting on the situation. "There is very little to be done in this storm," he concluded. "With luck it will end by tomorrow. Please inform our soldiers that we shall depart for Ilinar when the snow stops falling. Also, find the Captain of the Guard and send him to me." Matirine nodded and quietly left the room.
The King and Legolas looked at Calathi; she appeared unstable, trembling lightly, though her eyes were burning with fierce emotion. "Melamin?" Legolas asked carefully. "Are you all right?"
The maiden struggled to come to her senses; she had barely acknowledged the fact that her fiancé was addressing her. She turned her head slowly and locked eyes with him. The pain reflected in his sapphire orbs dissipated some of the numbness surrounding her, though she tried to hold on to it. The anguish with which it was replaced was almost too much to bear.
She unhooked the Prince's arm from her hip and stepped away, walking to the door and into the hall with complete, cool composure. Thranduil and his son exchanged glances before Legolas followed.
He caught up quickly and wrapped her in his embrace, seeking to offer what comfort he could. "Legolas, please," she pleaded, endeavoring to remain as remote as she could for the time being. "Please, I... I just want to be alone."
"Calathi, I understand that you're hurt, maybe even afraid... but I think it would be best if you had company to help you through this," he advised gently, kissing the top of her head. Then he leaned down and kissed the tip of her ear softly. "It is all right to cry, Love," he whispered.
She shook her head. "I cannot right now," she answered stiffly. "I need time to think."
"Are you sure?"
She faced him and nodded. "Yes." Legolas sighed and released her from his hold. He knew that it would probably be better for her if he were there to soothe her and draw her attention from her grief, but he respected her need for privacy. Reluctantly, he watched her go.
* * * * *
Calathi strapped Methlai to her belt and shoved her knives hastily into her boots and the wrist guards on her arm. It was madness, she knew. But there was no way she could let go of what had happened like that.
What if there were survivors? Matirine couldn't possibly have checked everywhere, and if any of her people were hurt, in pain, hidden somewhere...well, she had to find them, and quickly. Besides, there was one spot in particular that she needed to investigate for herself... and at least one person - or body, she added with revulsion - that she needed to find.
Her mind was made up: storm or no, she had to discover the true fate of her parents and friends. The thought of everyone she had known being dead plagued her mind, and she shoved the torturing thoughts out of her head.
Quietly she pulled on a thick, gray cloak she had brought from home and lifted the hood, tying it firmly to counter the gusting wind. The thick blanket from her bed she rolled tightly and shoved into her pack. *Are the servants still in the kitchens so late?* she wondered. Whether the were or not, she had to try her luck - she was sure that she could get by without food for the journey; it was for what may await her there that she needed it.
Slowly opening her door and peering out, Calathi saw that the hall was devoid of other elves. She raced noiselessly through the corridor and cautiously entered the kitchens,, scrounging through various jars and cabinets for supplies.
Suddenly she heard approaching voices from the dining hall, only a little way from the door. She gave up her search, opening the previously secured shutters, but she was thrown back. Their wooden frames slammed into the wall with a loud crash, and she had to jump up quickly to stop their rattling before the entire palace was aware of the raucous.
She threw herself outside amidst the angrily swirling snow and howling wind. Roughly striving against the storm, she lowered herself from the sill and crept toward the stables, her feet barely making an impression in the accumulating drifts as she proceeded with the little she had managed to accumulate.
The guards that had rushed into the kitchens moments after the commotion pushed the mysteriously flapping shutters closed and eyed the open cabinets suspiciously.
* * * * *
Soon enough Calathi was galloping through the woods, a white mare beneath her. Flakes of ice stung her face as she sped onward, whipping by the violently swaying trees. "Noro lim, noro lim, Larape!" she urged her steed. The sweeping countryside kept her emotions at bay.
She allowed herself to float, suspended, separated from the world - almost the way she had when she went into shock what felt like so long a time ago. Only this time, the Prince, her love, was not there to save her from the swirling blackness with a sweet kiss.
Why hadn't she told him that she was leaving? He might have made the journey more tolerable with his mere presence. *He would not have let me come,* she told herself to keep the guilt from rising within her.
She continued on throughout the night, the cold spreading throughout her limbs. As dawn broke, her horse slowed her pace; saliva foamed at her mouth, and her sides were lathered with sweat. Though Calathi's only wishes were to reach Ilinar as quickly as possible, she understood that the creature carrying her needed a rest.
Pulling her blanket from the pack she had flung to the ground, she used its edges to rub the horse down and then draped it over her body to keep her warm. "Diola lle thank you," she whispered, patting the mare on her muzzle.
Larape neighed weakly, nuzzling her hand. She retrieved an apple from her sack and fed it to the horse, giving her another friendly pat before taking shelter beside a tall fir tree. As she pulled her cloak more tightly around her, Calathi felt the cold creeping further within her stiff body. At this point, however, she just didn't care. Her eyes fogged, and then her mind wandered onto the path of dreams.
* * * * *
Legolas awoke with a start. The wind still whistled beyond his closed windows, though his senses told him morning had arrived. He leapt out of bed and roughly pulled on a tunic. Striding quickly out of his bedroom and down the corridor, he stood outside his fiance's quarters and knocked gently.
"Calathi?" he called, knocking more loudly. Still, no answer rang from within, and the Prince quickly grew apprehensive. "Melamin, open the door." He stopped pounding and listened, only to be answered with silence.
Legolas pushed it open and stepped into the room, searching for the future Princess. The bed was empty, the coverlet gone. The Prince looked around briefly before his gaze settled on the wall - at the very spot where Methlai had been hanging since the battle with the goblins.
It was gone.
His heart skipped a beat. "Oh no." Then he dashed off toward his father's chamber.
* * * * *
A wet nose pushed its way into Calathi's dream. She came back to consciousness and focused her eyes, finding Larape in front of her. Smiling weakly, she stood, her strained muscles burning as she brushed the deep snow away from her. She pulled the damp yet warm blanket from her horse and stowed it in her sack before climbing onto her and resuming her journey.
Clouds of snow still fell thickly around her, though the wind had slowed. Her elven intuition kept her on the correct path through the silent forest as she grew nigh to Ilinar. Her horse plodded through the drifts at a steady pace, ever onward.
She traveled the rest of the day in the same fashion, pausing only to offer nourishment to Larape. By midday the snow had become even deeper, so much so that the horse could hardly pull its entrenched hooves from the drifts.
Calathi gave up the struggle in frustration as she drew on the elven magic within her and passed it to Larape. As the mare strained for another step it found that it was able to walk upon the snow as its mistress did.
The speed of their travel increased once more, and the maiden found her strength being quickly depleted. Her energy was being drained away to sustain the enchantment upon the steed. Had she released the connection, horse and rider would have immediately plunged through the crust and they would be halted yet again. So, though exhaustion was overcoming the elven warrior, she willed herself to continue until the last of her strength had been spent.
Afternoon descended upon the forest, casting long, eerie shadows over the glistening snow. Calathi had been in a stupor for several hours, her mind unaccustomed to being incapable of traveling the dream paths when need called for it. Her spell, however, required her to remain conscious throughout its casting.
Without realizing it, Calathi fell into the thigh-deep snow and her horse sank to its forelegs. Neighing loudly, it caught her attention and she groggily stood, bringing the blanket from her pack and rubbing the horse down as before. Quickly she scooped away the snow around Larape so that it wouldn't be frozen in place by nightfall. She dug a small hollow beside it for herself as well before curling into a tight ball and falling fast asleep.
* * * * *
To the extreme gratuity of the still-tired Calathi, she awoke to clear night skies and little wind. Larape stood patiently as she bundled the coverlet and stashed it, then mounted her and granted her magic once more. It was the maiden's hope that they reach Ilinar by daybreak, so long as the calm weather remained.
The snow now was a bit higher than her waist, and the trunks of the bare trees were hidden from view. The usual woodland animals were nowhere to be seen.
Still, the realization of the news Matirine had borne to the palace had yet to reach her, and as the sky cleared and the sun rose and her destination become visible, she was not prepared for what she found.
***Hehehehe... I wonder what will happen? ; ) Well, anyway, I was kind of making it up when Calathi lent her power to Larape so that her horse could walk on snow as well... I have no idea if that's even possible, or if elven horses can walk on the snow for themselves, but whatever. Sorry to any of those LOTR know-it-alls that throw hissy-fits if anything is out of wack... and I know that this is an LOTR story (well, sort of), but I'M the one writing it, and I'm doing what I want to do with it. And yes, I know, elves don't cry... but I find it easier to write when I can show emotions that way... Haha, sorry, I really do appreciate all of my reviewers. Keep them coming guys!!